arms, I sang the hymn that he had sung, with folded hands and reverent
mien, every morning of his life in the Kindergarten:--

"Father, we thank Thee for the night,
And for the pleasant morning light;
For rest and gladness, love and care,
And all that makes the day so fair!
Help us to do the things we should:
To be to others kind and good;
In all we do, in work or play,
To grow more loving every day!"

The last lingering, trembling note fell upon the death-like stillness of
the room, as with one sharp, brief struggle, one look of ineffable love
and peace, the tired lids drooped heavily over the eyes never to be
lifted again. Light had gleamed upon the darkened pathway, but the
silent room, the dying fire, the failing light, and the falling rain
were all in fellowship with Death. My blessed boy! God had given him
back his three lost years!

"Oh, it is hard to take to heart the lesson that such deaths will teach,
but let no man reject it, for it is one that all must learn. When Death
strikes down the innocent and young, from every fragile form from which
he lets the panting spirit free a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of
mercy, charity, and love, to walk the world and bless it. Of every tear
that sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, some good is born,
some gentler nature comes."

[Illustration: TAIL-PIECE.]